Post by Torture on Nov 27, 2022 12:12:09 GMT -5
“The man who has nothing has only everything to gain”
IMMORTAL TEMPTATION TAKES OVER MY MIND
_______________________________
In my Action Wrestling career, I’ve been called a litany of names. Flat insults have been hurled my way, as toothless as they are false…but one thing I’ve been called has always stuck with me. That word.
That damn word.
Selfish…
They never knew how right they actually were.
The truth is, Carter, I am selfish. I don’t want to say something stupid like “in this business you have to be” or “you’re not here to make friends, you’re here to make money”. In reality, I never cared about any of that shit. Or any of them.
My followers.
They were a means to an end. They all were, every one of them. Lined up like dominos to take the fall when the storm came to blow it all down, and you can’t quell the storm. The best you can do is batten down the hatches and pray it doesn’t take you away too. Storms are funny that way.
That’s a weight off my chest, Carter. Truly. I promised myself this time would be different. I’m not going to hide who I am anymore for anyone’s sake, least of all yours. I am selfish. I’m a greedy shit, Shaw. I don’t see this as your return to the Action Wrestling fold. You’ve already lost your ticket back to the big time before they got a chance to punch it. When you opened the challenge up at Turmoil, you invited me in.
Now everyone gets to pay the price for your carelessness.
But first, you, Carter Shaw. One of the fastest rising stars in Action Wrestling. You put on high level performance one after the other and reached the upper echelon of names in the Action Wrestling docket. You captured the television championship. You won All-In. You cashed the fucker in and claimed that championship as well. You’ve done more than I’ve been able to do here, a commendable act, surely…
Why haven’t I been able to reach that level of success here?
Let me take you back, Carter, back to a Clash in January of two thousand and one, my man. You and that pit of writhing snakes Philidor Holdings were flexing nuts, positioning yourselves as pillars of strength. The night I was left smoldering in a pile of splintered plywood and tangled metal. The night that you helped put me in a hospital bed for months, on crutches after that, and physical therapy for nearly a year so a doctor could tell me I have absolutely no business stepping into a wrestling ring ever again.
Those first few weeks, I dreamed about getting better, about coming back here and hitting a lick on all of you absolute losers. Getting my comeuppance. Then weeks turned into months, months turned into a year, and eventually those dreams became nightmares. You see, my mind, it had no doubt that I would be back here one day, but my body resisted. It fought tooth and nail to try and keep me out of this ring…but revenge is a powerful motivator, Shaw.
So I got to work. I did the physical therapy. I was Sisyphus rolling that god damn boulder up that god damn hill, Carter. It seemed for every step forward I scratched and clawed for, I was set back at least ten. But it never swayed me from my path. I never looked back, there was only forward. Forward I trudged up that god damn hill, every god damn day, every god damn chance that I got! Until there were mornings when I woke up and it didn’t hurt so much. Until there were hours I could go without the crutches. Then those hours turned to days, those days to weeks, then those weeks to months.
Then there were nights where the nightmares stopped and I started to dream again. I dreamed of rolling that boulder to the top of the hill and pushing it back down the other side. Revenge is powerful, but my dreams started to speak to me. They told me there was more than one reason to return to this ring. Not for me. Not for my family. Not for my Old Man. There was a light beyond that boulder as bright as the sun, Carter, so bright it was blinding. It sang a sirens song, Shaw. It called to me. That light was so damn bright there were times I was tempted to turn away…but I persevered. That was my fear trying to hold me back, to lull me in to complacency.
I wouldn’t let it. Fear will no longer guide me.
Kicking your motherfucking ass across that ring at Turmoil isn’t the only reason I’m here though, Shaw. Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy to do it, I’m going to relish in it, I’m going to savor every last bite of that cold dish. I’m going to enjoy ruining your big night, Carter. I won’t end your career like you tried to end mine though. I think it will be infinitely more pleasurable to watch you suffer a run of mediocrity under the new regime my arrival has heralded. Watching you squirm in the midcard is a fate worse than the one you tried to bestow upon me. It’s more than you deserve, but I’m nothing if not magnanimous.
And after I’m done tossing you around like a rag doll at Turmoil, my sights are set on a much higher prize. The one thing that has since eluded me in my Action Wrestling career. I almost lost the opportunity once. I won’t let it slip through my fingers again.
Are you shitting your pants yet?
Wesley’s back, Action Wrestling. Come to reclaim the kingdom that I built. And there is no doubt in my mind that I’ll soon be sitting on that throne.
Now that’s a return. Provocative. Enticing. Concrete goals. You couldn’t command that kind of power if you’re life depended on it.
You want that power, Shaw? Then come try and take it.
______________________________
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
______________________________
?: Slow it down, Wes! Slow is smoo…
Wesley held one finger up to the voice calling from outside the ring and used his opposite forearm to wipe sweat from his forehead. The six foot seven man across from him was snarling, licking his chops for a piece of Wesley, his hands moving in an emulation of strangulation.
Wesley: Shut the fuck up.
The two locked up in the center of the ring. The big man took control of Wesleys back and waist. Wesley reached towards the ropes, the tips of fingers barely brushing them before the big man pulled him away. Wesley jacked his elbow into the mans fat head, sending him reeling backwards a step or two. Wesley quickly spun on his heels and laid punches into the big man’s temple sending him sprawling against the ropes…but with one big bound, the man pushed back and clapped his meaty arms around Wesleys head. Wesley was stunned for just a second, but long enough for a boot to get driven into his midsection.
Old Man: Protect yourself!
The man’s club like forearm drove hard into Wesley’s back, sending him lurching for the ropes. Before Wesley could grab them, the man pulled him in and lifted him off the ground. Wesley watched the lights as he ascended high into the air.
Seven feet.
Eight feet.
Nine feet.
Ten feet.
He looked backwards down at the mat. He felt the force of the drop before it actually happened. He felt his spine sever where the doctor said it would always be weakened. He imagined himself in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
Alone.
Destitute.
Nothing to show for any of this.
He growled. He spat and snarled. He lifted his right hand up and drove it as hard as he could into the big man’s head. One after the other until he relinquished control. Wesley dropped from the man’s shoulders and landed cat like on his feet. He bounced off the ropes, jumped from the mat, and drove his knee as hard as he could into the man’s head. He fell to his knees. Wesley cocked back and drove his fist into the man’s face, sending him sprawling to the mat. He climbed on top of him, throwing punch after punch, losing even more control with each subsequent hit.
Old Man: STOP! THAT’S ENOUGH! HE’S HAD ENOUGH!
Two strong hands grabbed Wesley around the chest and pulled him from the big man, who now lay bleeding in a state of unconsciousness.
Old Man: What the hell was that?!
Wesley: He knew the risks.
Old Man: He didn’t sign up to be beaten within an inch of his death, Wesley! You need to get your head screwed on straig…
Wesley grabbed his Old Man around the scruff of his collar and shoved him against the wall.
Wesley: You don’t get to tell me what I do or don’t NEED to do. The only reason you’re here is because you didn’t have the wherewithal to pull that trigger on yourself. Your JOB is wrestling coach. You lost the opportunity to be a father a LONG time ago. Now shut the fuck up and do your job.
Wesley grabbed a towel hanging haphazardly off the back of a chair next to the ring. He pointed to the man barely coming to in the ring.
Wesley: And clean this fucking mess up.
_______________________________
OBSESSIONS PULLING ME
FADING IVE COME TO TAKE WHATS MINE
_______________________________
Wesley paced back and forth around the dark locker room, murmuring quietly to himself. Every now and then he’d stop and pound a fist against a locker or knock something off a table. He barely heard his Old Man open the door and come in.
Old Man: Wesley…
Wesley stopped, still whispering something under his breath.
Old Man: I know Ive never been the father you needed. I can’t even begin to apologize for that…but you need to listen to me. I know physically you’re healthy enough to go back, but mentally? Man, I’m worried. I’m worried about you. I’m scared to death of what’s going to happen in that ring. Not to you, but we just had to scrape that hoss off the mat with a spatula. You’re a good man, Wesley. Better than I’ve ever been. I don’t ever want you to lose sight of that. I know what she did to you…
Wesley turned and punched a locker hard enough for the metal metal to cave in.
Wesley: Don’t talk about it. Don’t talk about her.
Wesley approached his Old Man, slowly, calculated.
Wesley: You should be worried. What I want, what I need from Action Wrestling? Absolutely nobody will stop me from obtaining it. If they want to get in my way? I say let them. What I did to him in there and what I do to Carter Shaw at Turmoil are going to PALE in comparison to what I have in store for the person who decides they want to get in my way. Close the door on your way out.
His Old Man shakes his head and turns towards the door. Wesley starts to mutter to himself once again. As his Old Man closes the door, tears begin to well up in his eyes. He lamented the man his son used to be and tearfully shamed himself for the monster he helped create.
IMMORTAL TEMPTATION TAKES OVER MY MIND
_______________________________
In my Action Wrestling career, I’ve been called a litany of names. Flat insults have been hurled my way, as toothless as they are false…but one thing I’ve been called has always stuck with me. That word.
That damn word.
Selfish…
They never knew how right they actually were.
The truth is, Carter, I am selfish. I don’t want to say something stupid like “in this business you have to be” or “you’re not here to make friends, you’re here to make money”. In reality, I never cared about any of that shit. Or any of them.
My followers.
They were a means to an end. They all were, every one of them. Lined up like dominos to take the fall when the storm came to blow it all down, and you can’t quell the storm. The best you can do is batten down the hatches and pray it doesn’t take you away too. Storms are funny that way.
That’s a weight off my chest, Carter. Truly. I promised myself this time would be different. I’m not going to hide who I am anymore for anyone’s sake, least of all yours. I am selfish. I’m a greedy shit, Shaw. I don’t see this as your return to the Action Wrestling fold. You’ve already lost your ticket back to the big time before they got a chance to punch it. When you opened the challenge up at Turmoil, you invited me in.
Now everyone gets to pay the price for your carelessness.
But first, you, Carter Shaw. One of the fastest rising stars in Action Wrestling. You put on high level performance one after the other and reached the upper echelon of names in the Action Wrestling docket. You captured the television championship. You won All-In. You cashed the fucker in and claimed that championship as well. You’ve done more than I’ve been able to do here, a commendable act, surely…
Why haven’t I been able to reach that level of success here?
Let me take you back, Carter, back to a Clash in January of two thousand and one, my man. You and that pit of writhing snakes Philidor Holdings were flexing nuts, positioning yourselves as pillars of strength. The night I was left smoldering in a pile of splintered plywood and tangled metal. The night that you helped put me in a hospital bed for months, on crutches after that, and physical therapy for nearly a year so a doctor could tell me I have absolutely no business stepping into a wrestling ring ever again.
Those first few weeks, I dreamed about getting better, about coming back here and hitting a lick on all of you absolute losers. Getting my comeuppance. Then weeks turned into months, months turned into a year, and eventually those dreams became nightmares. You see, my mind, it had no doubt that I would be back here one day, but my body resisted. It fought tooth and nail to try and keep me out of this ring…but revenge is a powerful motivator, Shaw.
So I got to work. I did the physical therapy. I was Sisyphus rolling that god damn boulder up that god damn hill, Carter. It seemed for every step forward I scratched and clawed for, I was set back at least ten. But it never swayed me from my path. I never looked back, there was only forward. Forward I trudged up that god damn hill, every god damn day, every god damn chance that I got! Until there were mornings when I woke up and it didn’t hurt so much. Until there were hours I could go without the crutches. Then those hours turned to days, those days to weeks, then those weeks to months.
Then there were nights where the nightmares stopped and I started to dream again. I dreamed of rolling that boulder to the top of the hill and pushing it back down the other side. Revenge is powerful, but my dreams started to speak to me. They told me there was more than one reason to return to this ring. Not for me. Not for my family. Not for my Old Man. There was a light beyond that boulder as bright as the sun, Carter, so bright it was blinding. It sang a sirens song, Shaw. It called to me. That light was so damn bright there were times I was tempted to turn away…but I persevered. That was my fear trying to hold me back, to lull me in to complacency.
I wouldn’t let it. Fear will no longer guide me.
Kicking your motherfucking ass across that ring at Turmoil isn’t the only reason I’m here though, Shaw. Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy to do it, I’m going to relish in it, I’m going to savor every last bite of that cold dish. I’m going to enjoy ruining your big night, Carter. I won’t end your career like you tried to end mine though. I think it will be infinitely more pleasurable to watch you suffer a run of mediocrity under the new regime my arrival has heralded. Watching you squirm in the midcard is a fate worse than the one you tried to bestow upon me. It’s more than you deserve, but I’m nothing if not magnanimous.
And after I’m done tossing you around like a rag doll at Turmoil, my sights are set on a much higher prize. The one thing that has since eluded me in my Action Wrestling career. I almost lost the opportunity once. I won’t let it slip through my fingers again.
Are you shitting your pants yet?
Wesley’s back, Action Wrestling. Come to reclaim the kingdom that I built. And there is no doubt in my mind that I’ll soon be sitting on that throne.
Now that’s a return. Provocative. Enticing. Concrete goals. You couldn’t command that kind of power if you’re life depended on it.
You want that power, Shaw? Then come try and take it.
______________________________
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
______________________________
?: Slow it down, Wes! Slow is smoo…
Wesley held one finger up to the voice calling from outside the ring and used his opposite forearm to wipe sweat from his forehead. The six foot seven man across from him was snarling, licking his chops for a piece of Wesley, his hands moving in an emulation of strangulation.
Wesley: Shut the fuck up.
The two locked up in the center of the ring. The big man took control of Wesleys back and waist. Wesley reached towards the ropes, the tips of fingers barely brushing them before the big man pulled him away. Wesley jacked his elbow into the mans fat head, sending him reeling backwards a step or two. Wesley quickly spun on his heels and laid punches into the big man’s temple sending him sprawling against the ropes…but with one big bound, the man pushed back and clapped his meaty arms around Wesleys head. Wesley was stunned for just a second, but long enough for a boot to get driven into his midsection.
Old Man: Protect yourself!
The man’s club like forearm drove hard into Wesley’s back, sending him lurching for the ropes. Before Wesley could grab them, the man pulled him in and lifted him off the ground. Wesley watched the lights as he ascended high into the air.
Seven feet.
Eight feet.
Nine feet.
Ten feet.
He looked backwards down at the mat. He felt the force of the drop before it actually happened. He felt his spine sever where the doctor said it would always be weakened. He imagined himself in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
Alone.
Destitute.
Nothing to show for any of this.
He growled. He spat and snarled. He lifted his right hand up and drove it as hard as he could into the big man’s head. One after the other until he relinquished control. Wesley dropped from the man’s shoulders and landed cat like on his feet. He bounced off the ropes, jumped from the mat, and drove his knee as hard as he could into the man’s head. He fell to his knees. Wesley cocked back and drove his fist into the man’s face, sending him sprawling to the mat. He climbed on top of him, throwing punch after punch, losing even more control with each subsequent hit.
Old Man: STOP! THAT’S ENOUGH! HE’S HAD ENOUGH!
Two strong hands grabbed Wesley around the chest and pulled him from the big man, who now lay bleeding in a state of unconsciousness.
Old Man: What the hell was that?!
Wesley: He knew the risks.
Old Man: He didn’t sign up to be beaten within an inch of his death, Wesley! You need to get your head screwed on straig…
Wesley grabbed his Old Man around the scruff of his collar and shoved him against the wall.
Wesley: You don’t get to tell me what I do or don’t NEED to do. The only reason you’re here is because you didn’t have the wherewithal to pull that trigger on yourself. Your JOB is wrestling coach. You lost the opportunity to be a father a LONG time ago. Now shut the fuck up and do your job.
Wesley grabbed a towel hanging haphazardly off the back of a chair next to the ring. He pointed to the man barely coming to in the ring.
Wesley: And clean this fucking mess up.
_______________________________
OBSESSIONS PULLING ME
FADING IVE COME TO TAKE WHATS MINE
_______________________________
Wesley paced back and forth around the dark locker room, murmuring quietly to himself. Every now and then he’d stop and pound a fist against a locker or knock something off a table. He barely heard his Old Man open the door and come in.
Old Man: Wesley…
Wesley stopped, still whispering something under his breath.
Old Man: I know Ive never been the father you needed. I can’t even begin to apologize for that…but you need to listen to me. I know physically you’re healthy enough to go back, but mentally? Man, I’m worried. I’m worried about you. I’m scared to death of what’s going to happen in that ring. Not to you, but we just had to scrape that hoss off the mat with a spatula. You’re a good man, Wesley. Better than I’ve ever been. I don’t ever want you to lose sight of that. I know what she did to you…
Wesley turned and punched a locker hard enough for the metal metal to cave in.
Wesley: Don’t talk about it. Don’t talk about her.
Wesley approached his Old Man, slowly, calculated.
Wesley: You should be worried. What I want, what I need from Action Wrestling? Absolutely nobody will stop me from obtaining it. If they want to get in my way? I say let them. What I did to him in there and what I do to Carter Shaw at Turmoil are going to PALE in comparison to what I have in store for the person who decides they want to get in my way. Close the door on your way out.
His Old Man shakes his head and turns towards the door. Wesley starts to mutter to himself once again. As his Old Man closes the door, tears begin to well up in his eyes. He lamented the man his son used to be and tearfully shamed himself for the monster he helped create.
